Melita
yes, yes, I am wild
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
I am the wind that makes breathing hard
Fangorn, as usual, was the first to spot the dragon. A few low grumbles as he bobbed around the stone steps made Melita’s eyes narrow, and then glance upward, where the dangling vines outstretched. She recognized her uncle instantly, and wasn’t even truly bothered by the state of the cow – just his presence.
Something rankled through her shoulders, down the length of her spine, leaving it an unsettled, untethered emotion. Flickering there, like distant flames, waiting for the right word, the right instance, to crackle against the kindling. But she would try to be civil, at least for Nate’s sake, and withheld whatever biting tone yearned to flare behind her teeth. “Hey,” she offered in response, a shrug flowing through her when nothing else seemed able to. In need of movement, her hands persisted through her bag, snatching at a few snacks from the market she’d meant to leave with Nate; but in all events, had forgotten.
She ducked her head, digging around, figuring it’d be a decent focal point, and less dangerous than anything else they could comment on. “I was visiting earlier. Meant to leave these for Haai.” Then she drew out a couple little jerkies, probably made from Hels, intending to toss them over to him.
Something rankled through her shoulders, down the length of her spine, leaving it an unsettled, untethered emotion. Flickering there, like distant flames, waiting for the right word, the right instance, to crackle against the kindling. But she would try to be civil, at least for Nate’s sake, and withheld whatever biting tone yearned to flare behind her teeth. “Hey,” she offered in response, a shrug flowing through her when nothing else seemed able to. In need of movement, her hands persisted through her bag, snatching at a few snacks from the market she’d meant to leave with Nate; but in all events, had forgotten.
She ducked her head, digging around, figuring it’d be a decent focal point, and less dangerous than anything else they could comment on. “I was visiting earlier. Meant to leave these for Haai.” Then she drew out a couple little jerkies, probably made from Hels, intending to toss them over to him.
I am the ocean and the battered shore
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
I will be the passion of thunder, a howl of fury
